The imperial study remained silent beneath the dim glow of dying candlelight.
Scrolls covered nearly every inch of the long wooden table.
Ancient records.
Forbidden histories.
Documents so old that touching them carelessly could reduce them to dust.
The Emperor sat alone in the center of it all.
His eyes were tired.
But sharp.
Focused.
The deeper he read—
The more unsettled he became.
Outside the palace windows, dawn had slowly begun appearing over the horizon.
A pale gray light spread across the sky.
Yet inside the study—
The atmosphere remained heavy.
Cold.
As though the darkness described within those records had seeped into the room itself.
The Emperor slowly lowered one of the scrolls.
His fingers pressed lightly against his temple.
A headache pulsed faintly behind his eyes.
Because now—
He was certain.
Every strange incident happening across the kingdom connected back to forbidden black arts.
There was no longer any doubt.
The villages.
